


To Kill a Monster

by BlackFriar



Series: Monsters [2]
Category: Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: Gen, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-05
Updated: 2015-12-05
Packaged: 2018-05-05 00:14:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5353601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackFriar/pseuds/BlackFriar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes Batman wishes he could break his 'no kill' policy. This is one of those times. One-shot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Kill a Monster

"Whoever fights monsters should see to it that in the process he does not become a monster." Friedrich Nietzsche.

oOo

Batman was upgrading The Watchtower’s security systems when Robin’s voice came in over the communicator. “Robin calling Justice League, HOJ slash Watchtower. B01, priority red.”

The Dark Knight immediately flicked the receiver. “Robin, what is it?”

“Batman.” He sounded relieved. “We have a situation. Twenty-three civilians are being trafficked by a gang of armed men in Star City. We were captured, but Kid Flash and I escaped. Speedy and Aqualad are still prisoners. I’m weaponless and we need to rescue them before the men move out again.”

Batman’s eyes narrowed. Robin’s report was clear and concise, but the boy’s voice was higher than usual and he could hear a distinct quiver to it: Robin had been rattled by something. And what were they doing in Star City?

But he knew better than to waste time asking questions. “Where?”

“It’s an old steelworks factory outside the city. You can track my communicator, but they’re jamming the signal, so I’ll have to leave it here.”

“Do what you can to prevent those men from moving out before we arrive, but you are not to engage without weapons,” Batman ordered. His protégé was a more than capable crime fighter, but he was still vulnerable without weapons. Robin didn’t have powers like the rest of his team, nor did he have the size to compensate for that, and Batman wasn’t about to let him face a gang of armed men with Kid Flash as his only backup.

“Got it. Robin out.”

The line went dead and Batman activated the trace on Robin’s communicator. There was a cold feeling in his stomach that he couldn’t quite ignore; the tremor in Robin’s voice coupled with the fact that he and Kid Flash had just _left_ Speedy and Aqualad behind indicated an urgency that troubled him.

Locking in on Robin’s co-ordinates and sending them out, Batman contacted the League. “All available Leaguers, rendezvous at these co-ordinates. I will brief you at the location. Batman out.” 

His message sent, Batman turned and headed for the zeta-tubes, activating the Batplane from his wrist computer as he did so: the zeta-tube in Star City was fifteen miles from Robin’s co-ordinates, and it wasn’t as if he were some boy scout who could fly.

oOo

Batman touched down in a wooded clearing at the same time as Superman. Wonder Woman, Hal Jordan, Black Canary, Green Arrow and Aquaman were already there.

They approached him as he exited the plane and Superman was the first to speak. “Batman, what’s going on?” 

“Robin contacted me. A gang of armed men are trafficking civilians here in Star City. They’re being held in an old steelworks factory a few miles west of here,” Batman replied, bringing up the factory’s blueprints on his glove’s holographic computer so the other Leaguers could see its layout.

“How many civilians are we talking about?” asked Superman, studying the image.

“Twenty-three,” Batman replied. “Speedy and Aqualad are also prisoners.”

“What!” Green Arrow stepped forward. “Is Roy alright?”

“I don’t have any details.”

“But how can you not have details?! I thought Robin contacted you!”

Batman glared at him. “Robin and Kid Flash were also captured, but managed to escape. Robin was concerned about the men moving out before help could arrive, so I kept questions to a minimum.”

They were interrupted at just that moment by the arrival of the Flash. “Sorry I’m late,” he greeted them cheerily. “What’d I miss?”

“Rescue mission,” Batman replied brusquely. “We need to go. Jordan, if you would.”

A green bubble immediately came up around Batman, Green Arrow, Black Canary and Aquaman, then Hal rose into the air, pulling his passengers carefully behind him. Superman and Wonder Woman joined them, and Batman could see Flash streaking away through the trees below.

He raised a hand to his communicator. “Flash, do not engage and remain out of sight until we join you.” 

“Sure thing, Bats,” came the response.

As they travelled over the tops of the trees, Batman monitored their distance to the factory with his wrist computer. He could hear Hal explaining the situation to Flash while they flew, but he himself didn’t speak again until they were in viewing distance of the factory.

“Everyone, back to the ground,” he ordered. “Flash, meet us below.”

“What now?” Green Arrow snapped, as Hal Jordon lowered them to the ground.

Batman scowled at him. “There are twenty-three civilians inside that building and they’re surrounded by armed men. We need to do this _carefully_.”

Green Arrow’s expression reminded Batman of a petulant child, but he didn’t argue any further.

Superman was already scanning the factory. “Batman, there are only seventeen civilians inside the factory.”

Batman frowned. “Robin said twenty-three. He wouldn’t get it wrong.”

Superman scanned the building again. “Well, they’re not there now.”

“Where’s Roy?” Green Arrow broke in. “Is he alright?”

“He’s fine,” said Superman reassuringly. “He and Aqualad are tied up by the far wall in the middle of the factory. The prisoners have been split into two groups and are being held at either end of the factory.” 

“How many men?” Batman wanted to know.

“There are eleven inside, all with guns. There’s one man unconscious on the floor near Speedy and Aqualad, but I can’t tell if he’s a gunman or a hostage.” 

“Are those five men loading the trucks the only ones outside?”

The Man of Steel nodded. “They’re loading drugs onto the trucks.” Then he frowned. “Uh-oh. Kid Flash just entered the factory.”

Batman scowled. Speedsters, always so impatient. “Where’s Robin?”

“He’s under that truck.” Superman pointed to the furthest one.

Batman felt his stomach swoop. That didn’t sound like Robin. Had he been injured? “Take down the men outside,” he ordered.

The League swept into action, silently taking out the five gunmen so as not to alert the men inside. Rather than aid them, Batman headed for the truck that Robin was crouched beneath.

“Robin?” he called quietly, squatting down.

“Batman!”

To his utter relief, Robin wriggled out from beneath the truck, his cuffed hands and feet explaining why he had been under there. 

“Are you alright?” Batman asked, helping him to stand. There was a gash on the boy’s left cheek, along with bruising on his neck and wrists, but other than that he appeared to be unhurt.

Robin ignored the question and spoke urgently. “There’s still four men loose in the woods. They went after the six hostages that we managed to set free.”

“So that’s why there’s only seventeen in the factory,” Superman interjected, joining them. “Don’t worry, Robin, we’ll–”

“Robin, where’s the rest of your uniform?” Batman interrupted, staring down at his protégé. That the belt was gone didn’t surprise him – criminals always took the belt, and sometimes even the gloves. But where were his cape and boots? And why was his uniform _torn_?

The boy froze, and Batman felt something tighten in his chest at the deer-in-the-headlights expression on his face. Ignoring the rest of the League, who were rapidly gathering around them, Batman fixed him with a look when he didn’t answer. “Robin.”

“One of the men took them,” he admitted finally, a slight shake in his voice.

“But why would he take your cape and boots?” asked Superman, frowning. “And why is your uniform torn?”

“Can you get these off me?” Robin raised his cuffed wrists towards Batman, ignoring Superman’s questions and carefully avoiding looking at anyone.

Batman’s chest constricted painfully and he began to unpick the handcuffs. Those were finger-shaped bruises on the boy’s wrists. Someone had held onto them hard enough to imprint their fingers, but it shouldn’t have been necessary to restrain Robin like that when he was already handcuffed.

Unless someone had been holding him down.

Batman’s eyes narrowed as the lock on the handcuffs clicked open. Robin had sounded rattled when he had contacted him… Something had happened that was serious enough to warrant getting out of that factory fast, even though it meant leaving Speedy, Aqualad and the hostages behind… Robin’s uniform was torn and missing things that the boy was reluctant to account for… It all crystallized into one horrifying answer. 

“Robin, what happened?” he demanded, alarm making his voice harsher than he’d intended.

Instead of answering, Robin gulped, and the motion drew Batman’s attention to his neck, to a purplish mark that was most certainly not a bruise. A mark that hadn’t been there when Robin left Gotham earlier that evening.

Something cold washed over him. “What’s that on your neck?”

Robin’s eyes widened and he clamped one hand over the offensive mark, an action that did not go unnoticed by any of the adults. Tension spread out amongst the waiting Leaguers as yells exploded from inside the factory: Kid Flash had obviously just announced his presence to the gunmen. 

But for the first time since he had taken up the cowl, Batman wasn’t concerned with the events unfolding. “Robin, what happened?” he demanded again, peeling the boy’s hand away from the mark. Fear pressed at the edges of his carefully constructed calm and he prayed his suspicions were wrong.

Robin glanced at the Leaguers gathered around him and seemed to shrink in on himself. Surrounded by the imposing statures of the Justice League, his small frame looked lost. 

Batman softened his tone. “Robin, did those men hurt you?”

Wide, panicky eyes came up to meet his. “One…one of them tried.”

A torrent of angry hisses rose from the assembled heroes. Green Arrow muttered a slew of obscenities, while beside Batman, Superman cracked his knuckles in fury.

“Tried?” Batman’s eyes narrowed into slits and his hands ached from how tightly he had balled them into fists.

Robin nodded, his eyes dropping to the ground. “Wally vibrated his molecules out of his cuffs and got me out of there before the guy…before he could do anything too bad.” His words indicated that the man had still done something.

The Dark Knight felt something primal rise up within him. Someone had put hands on his child. Someone had put _hands_ on his child! 

Gunfire echoed from the factory. “We need to get in there,” Superman told Batman, the hard edge of anger evident in his voice.

“Do it,” Batman ground out, barely keeping his rage under control. His hands itched to rip apart the degenerate who had put his filthy paws on Robin.

The League headed for the factory, but Batman remained with Robin. The boy was still staring at the ground, his arms now crossed tightly. Batman knelt in front of him. “I’m going to take these off you,” he said, starting to unpick the handcuffs around Robin’s ankles. His hands were trembling with barely suppressed rage. He dealt with many sick, twisted monsters on the streets of Gotham, but the ones who used children that way were the worst, and he had always been careful to keep Robin away from those cases. Aside from a need to protect what was left of his innocence, he refused to put him on the radar of such depraved perverts. 

But it still hadn’t been enough to prevent one from getting their hands on him.

The cuffs clicked open and Batman pulled them away from Robin’s ankles. “Are you alright?” he asked quietly, remaining on his knees in front of Robin.

The boy shook his head. His eyes were still glued to the ground, but Batman saw the way his lower lip quivered. It tugged at something deep within him and he did something he had never before done in the field: he leaned over and hugged Robin. The boy clutched at him and gave what sounded like a dry sob. Batman didn’t speak. He just held Robin while he trembled and tried to get a hold of himself. It disturbed him to see Robin so shaken; the boy had never behaved like this in the field, not even when he was ten and facing Joker for the first time.

“I’m sorry,” Robin finally choked into his shoulder. 

“You have nothing to apologize for,” said Batman firmly, pulling back to look Robin in the eye.

“You aren’t mad at me?”

“Why would you think I’m mad at you?”

Robin looked at the ground for what felt like the umpteenth time. “Because when you asked me about…what happened, you sounded angry.”

Batman frowned. His panic had made his questions sound harsher than he’d intended, and to a frightened child surrounded by the Justice League, it had probably felt like an interrogation. “I am angry, Robin, but not at you. I’m angry at the man who tried to hurt you.”

“Oh.”

Robin didn’t seem reassured; he was gnawing at his lip while his fingers twitched. The Dark Knight sensed there was more to this. “Robin, did something else happen?” 

The boy squirmed and refused to look him in the eye.

“Robin?”

He glanced at Batman, his expression miserable. “Batman, do we have to…can we not talk about this?”

_Don’t push him,_ a voice cautioned. “Okay, Robin, we don’t have to talk about this now.”

The boy looked relieved, but Batman knew him well enough to know that this wouldn’t be the end of it. Someone had tried to rape him and the trauma of that wasn’t going to just vanish.

Rape.

The word forged something hot and violent and dangerous inside of him. Batman glanced towards the building that housed the man who had tried to force himself on Robin. He felt his mouth pull back in a snarl as a savage desire to butcher the animal who thought it was okay to use a child – to use _his_ child – that way overcame him.

With considerable effort, Batman forced his mouth back into its usual grim line before turning to face Robin again. “I need to check on the League’s progress. I want you to wait here, understood?”

Robin nodded.

“I won’t be long.” Batman got to his feet and strode towards the factory. By the time he was finished with the scum who had assaulted Robin, the man would regret ever laying eyes on the boy.

But as he reached the factory and his fury mounted into blinding proportions, Batman realized that he was dangerously close to crossing a line he swore he would never cross. If he didn’t employ some restraint, there would be one less monster in the world. And while that monster would be no loss, Batman couldn’t kill him – no matter how much he wanted to. Crossing that line would mean no going back.

Forcing aside the thoughts that were clamoring for him to, just this once, break his ‘no kill’ policy, Batman entered the factory.

The League were corralling the sixteen gunmen into two separate groups, and Batman had no intention of wasting time trying to identify the monster amongst them. Instead, he headed straight for Kid Flash: the teenager would know exactly who he was looking for.

“Where. Is he?” he managed to get out, drawing level with Kid Flash. The teenager took an unconscious step back. Batman knew it was because he was radiating rage, but it was impossible to hide it when he was so close to the animal who had assaulted his child. Controlling himself was going to be a problem.

Kid Flash scanned the two groups of captured gunmen. His jaw tightened imperceptibly as his gaze landed on the nearest group and he silently raised his right hand and pointed to one of the men; a tall, muscular individual whose defiant expression wavered when Batman strode over to him.

Catching the man by the throat, Batman slammed him against one of the concrete vats. The man’s hands were cuffed behind him, making him completely helpless as Batman slowly leveraged him up along the concrete until his legs were kicking in midair. He could feel the man’s pulse hammering beneath his fingertips, and some primal instinct roared for blood.

“What,” Batman deliberately kept his voice low and quiet because raising it would destroy the tenuous grasp he had on his self-control, “kind of monster thinks it’s acceptable to rape a _child?_ ”

“I – gack! – don’t…” 

Batman pressed viciously against the man’s throat. “I wasn’t. _Asking_ you.”

The man burbled and choked, his eyes practically popping. It made Batman want to squeeze harder. “Only the most depraved of individuals would use a child that way. The kind that are so far beyond what’s acceptable, it would be a service to humanity to wipe them out.”

The fact that it was his child this man had tried to use that way only fed the murderous instincts threatening to overwhelm him; he squeezed dangerously.

“No! I– gurk!” The man spluttered, his legs kicking out while his face scrunched up and turned red. Batman could feel his struggle to breathe beneath his fingertips and rage nudged at him to do it, to crush the man’s windpipe beyond the point of no return. It would be so easy…

“Batman…” Superman’s voice sounded warningly from somewhere behind him.

Part of Batman didn’t want to listen. The part of him crying out that this monster had tried to rape his son. What would it matter if he killed just one monster? But his rational side reminded him that he would never be able to go back if he crossed that line. And what would that do to Robin? Tonight had already damaged his innocence irrevocably; did Batman really want to be the one who hurt him further?

Struggling between what he wanted – needed – to do and what he knew he should do, it was the thought of Robin that helped him make his decision. No matter how badly he wanted to end this monster’s life, he couldn’t. 

But that didn’t mean he couldn’t make him pay for his depraved intentions.

With his free hand, he reached into his utility belt and withdrew a vial of Scarecrow’s fear gas. His cape ensured his actions were hidden from everyone else in the room. Lowering the man, he leaned in until they were practically nose-to-nose. Narrowing his eyes at the bastard who had tried to violate his son, Batman quickly injected him with the nightmare toxin. “Put your hands on a child again, and I will relieve you of part of your anatomy. Do you understand?” he growled.

The man nodded frantically, the lack of oxygen preventing him from screaming.

“Good.” He opened his hand and the man dropped to the floor, gasping and wheezing as he sucked in air. Batman stared down at him while returning the now empty vial to his utility belt, before turning and walking away. A bitter satisfaction trickled through him when the man began to scream. 

“No! Keep away from me! STOP!” 

“What did you do?” Superman hissed at him.

Not particularly bothered, he turned to face the Kryptonian. “What makes you think I did something?”

Superman gestured in exasperation at the man cowering on the floor.

“They have drugs on their trucks. Maybe he inhaled some sort of neurotoxin.”

Superman frowned, clearly not fooled, but Batman didn’t care. The Boy Scout could lecture him once he became a parent.

He walked over to where The Flash and Hal Jordon were standing. “Flash, Green Lantern, go after the six civilians who are trying to escape through the woods. There are four men tracking them who need to be brought in also.”

“On it,” said Flash, and took off. Hal Jordan nodded at Batman and followed after him.

“Do you want me to call the police?” asked Black Canary, coming up beside Batman, a smirk of satisfaction on her face as she glanced over to where the monster was still cowering in the dirt. It would appear that there was at least one Leaguer who agreed with his actions.

“Yes. And several ambulances; the prisoners are in poor shape.” Batman’s lip curled in disgust. Human traffickers and child rapists. These men were nothing but worthless parasites.

“I’ll call both. Why don’t you take Robin home?” She nodded towards the door and Batman felt his breath catch when he spotted the boy standing there with the other three teenagers. What was he doing back in here? Batman didn’t even want him in the same city as the filth who had assaulted him, much less the same room!

He looked back at where the man was now curled in a ball, sobbing, while Wonder Woman and Superman tried to get through to him. For several minutes he watched them, hoping the man was experiencing a hundred times the terror that he had inflicted on Robin. And even then, it still wouldn’t be enough.

Finally, Superman joined him, a deep frown still marring his features. “Was that really necessary?”

Batman looked at him but declined to answer such a stupid question.

Superman sighed. “I understand how angry you are, Batman–”

“No. You don’t.” His voice was low and tight. “He tried to rape Robin. Just be thankful he’s not dead.”

“You don’t kill.”

“That doesn’t mean I’m not capable of it.”

Superman stared at him.

But Batman had more important things to do than stand here and defend his actions to an overgrown boy scout. “I’m taking Robin back to Gotham. I assume you can take it from here?” 

He was aware of how abrupt he was being, even for him, but his nerves were jangling and he just wanted to get Robin home. 

Fortunately, the Kryptonian was too used to him to take any notice. He merely sighed again, and nodded. “Do you want me to contact you if this trafficking ring goes beyond Star City?”

“No. Handle it.”

Without any further utterances, Batman strode away, heading for the platform in the centre of the room: he had spotted the missing elements of Robin’s uniform thrown there. Sweeping them up, he tried not to think about that bastard systematically stripping his child. He was already regretting not wiping him off the face of the earth.

Turning, he moved in the direction of the four teenagers, taking a slight detour in order to stop beside Green Arrow. The archer was standing several feet away from the boys, his eyes fixed on Roy. 

Batman knew Arrow was concerned by the falling out he’d had with his protégé almost two weeks earlier, but his exasperation at the man’s inability to effectively communicate with the boy made it difficult to have any pity for him. Arrow was a grown man for Christ’s sake! “If you want to speak with him then do so,” he growled at Green Arrow.

The other Leaguer scowled at Batman. “What would you know about it?”

“Enough to see that you are both behaving like adolescents…and only he has the excuse of actually being one.”

Green Arrow’s scowl deepened and he looked away.

“Act like an adult and go speak with him, Arrow.” His rare words of council given, Batman departed. He had better things to do than advise emotionally stunted adults. 

Approaching the teenagers, he could see Robin smiling and heard him sigh, “Awesome. Thanks, Roy.”

Batman wondered what the archer had offered to do. He didn’t completely trust Speedy; the boy needed to learn to channel his anger better.

The boys looked up when he joined them. His gaze went straight to Robin. “I told you to wait outside.”

Robin shrugged.

“I have your things.” Batman held out the items that had been stripped from him.

Robin took the proffered items and immediately put his cape on. Batman couldn’t help but notice that it made him stand taller, as if less exposed. He was also quick to note that the other three boys looked away when Robin began to pull his boots on. They looked uncomfortable: what had happened here tonight had clearly made its mark on all of them.

Batman hoped they wouldn’t forget that lesson. “I want a full report on what happened this evening, from _all_ of you.” He glanced at Roy. “Mistakes were made that could have had terrible consequences. The League are not your enemy and we should have been contacted sooner.” He allowed the _before things got out of hand_ to hang in the air before proceeding. “However, your actions when placed in a difficult situation were…satisfactory.”

Batman ignored their stunned looks and glanced towards his protégé who now had his belt and gloves on. “Robin.”

The boy nodded in response. “I’m ready.” He turned to his friends and smiled. “I’ll see you guys tomorrow.”

“Don’t forget the cake!” said Kid Flash.

“I won’t.” Robin squeezed his arm and whispered something to the older boy that Batman couldn’t hear. But he could see the gratitude on his son’s face and guessed at what he was saying.

The speedster responded by giving him a quick, one-armed hug and murmured in a much more audible voice, “S’cool, bro. That’s what best pals do.”

Batman felt his own flash of gratitude towards the teenage speedster. The boy had saved Robin from a fate that could have potentially destroyed him. The Dark Knight would never admit it, but he would be forever grateful to Kid Flash. That the boy had pushed himself beyond anything he’d ever done before proved how loyal he was, and Batman would never again question Robin’s decision to reveal his identity to him.

Robin was now leaving, waving at Roy and Aqualad. Batman nodded at the two older boys as he followed Robin, stopping for a brief moment beside Kid Flash. 

“Thank you,” he said in a low voice, and then left before the teenager realized what he had said. 

He had never been good at expressing gratitude.

oOo

Bruce waited for Dick to finish showering with increasing agitation. The boy had barely spoken during the flight home other than to explain what they had been doing in Star City, and had headed straight for the showers as soon as they landed, with little more than a mumbled ‘hello’ to Alfred.

The butler had raised an eyebrow at the boy’s uncharacteristic rudeness, but Batman had shaken his head to indicate that he would fill him in later. He wanted to speak with Dick first, get the full story of what had actually happened.

The problem was, he had checked and refueled the plane, showered and changed into civilian clothes, and Dick _still_ wasn’t finished. The implications of the unusually long shower were not lost on Bruce, making every nerve in his body thrum. He wished he had destroyed the monster who assaulted his child.

“Is Master Dick still in the shower?” Alfred’s surprised voice sounded, and the Englishman materialized at his side, a tray laden with sandwiches, a pot of coffee for Bruce and a mug of hot chocolate for Dick in his hands.

“Yes.” Bruce’s gaze flicked in the direction of the showers, where the sound of splashing water was bouncing off the cave’s walls.

Alfred placed the tray beside the computer console. “Forgive me for asking, Master Bruce, but what happened this evening? You appear to be quite agitated, and Master Dick is not himself.” The butler’s eyes strayed in concern towards the showers.

Bruce sighed and rubbed his own eyes tiredly. “There was an incident in Star City.”

“Star City?”

“Apparently, Robin went there with Kid Flash and Aqualad to convince Speedy to join the team. Somehow they became entangled with a gang of human traffickers and ended up prisoners… One of the men assaulted Robin, Alfred.”

There was stunned silence for a moment before the other man responded. “Assaulted? Sir, you can’t possibly mean–”

“I do.” His voice hollow. “I don’t know how far it went; all I know for sure is that the bastard put hands on him. Kid Flash managed to vibrate out of his restraints and get Robin out of there before he could–” Bruce swallowed back the bile that rose in his throat. “But his uniform was torn, and he was missing his cape and boots when I arrived… And there’s a hickey on his neck.”

“But…” Alfred seemed lost for words. “He’s a _child!_ ”

“Didn’t seem to be a problem for that bastard,” Bruce replied bitterly. “Seventeen adult prisoners and it was the child he wanted to–” He couldn’t finish his sentence. The shock had worn off and reality had sunk in. But because he could no longer take it out on the monster responsible, Bruce couldn’t return to the refuge of rage. He was being forced to deal with the reality of this, and it was tormenting him wildly. He could only imagine how Dick was feeling.

“Jesus Christ!” he burst out, getting to his feet and starting to pace. He would explode if he didn’t do something. “I should have killed him! Why didn’t I kill him?”

The older man appeared startled. “Kill? Sir, you have never–”

Bruce cut him off. “I wanted to, Alfred. I was so close…” His voice dropped to a whisper. “I wish I had.”

A comforting hand landed on his shoulder. “You made the right decision, Master Bruce. To kill would make you no better than that man. And think of the effect it would have had on Master Dick.”

“That’s what stopped me,” he admitted. “The thought of what it would do to Dick. I didn’t care what it would do to me.”

A sudden noise drew their attention and both men looked up just in time to see Dick emerge from the showers clad in jeans and a sweatshirt, his hair still wet. He flushed to see both men staring at him. “What?” he asked defensively.

Alfred recovered first. “I have sandwiches and hot chocolate for you, Master Dick. Once you have eaten, you should go to bed. It’s rather late and you have the Braithwaite Garden Party in the morning.”

“Okay.” Dick padded noiselessly over to them in his socks and lifted a sandwich from the tray. Bruce could see him eyeing it and knew he wasn’t hungry. He scowled. The silence during the ride home, the uncharacteristic rudeness to Alfred, the abnormally long shower, and now a loss of appetite? Dick was clearly struggling with what had happened. They needed to talk about it, whether Dick wanted to or not. Bruce didn’t want it to affect him any more than it already had.

“I will be in the kitchen should you require anything further, Master Bruce,” Alfred announced, taking his cue to leave before Bruce had even given it to him. The billionaire shot him a grateful look; the butler had an uncanny knack for always knowing exactly what Bruce wanted without him ever having to say it. 

As Alfred disappeared up the stairs, Bruce saw Dick drop the sandwich back onto the plate without taking a bite. “You told Alfred, didn’t you?” he asked, not looking at Bruce.

“What makes you think that?”

“He went back upstairs without even commenting on these.” Dick gestured to the gash on his cheek and the bruises on his neck.

Bruce sighed. It was unlike Alfred to ignore an injury, no matter how minor. “He was concerned; he noticed something was bothering you.”

“You shouldn’t have told him.” 

“Why not?”

“I don’t want him to know.”

Bruce put a hand on Dick’s shoulder, removing it the instant the boy stiffened. He raged silently at the man responsible for that nervous reaction. “Why wouldn’t you want Alfred to know?”

“I just don’t, okay? It’s bad enough that everybody else already does.” 

Bruce had a feeling he knew where this was going. “Dick, you have nothing to hide. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“But I let him–” Dick flushed crimson and hung his head in shame.

In an instant, Bruce was on his knees in front of him, hands on his shoulders despite the boy’s flinch. “You didn’t let him do anything! This was _not_ your fault. The only one at fault was that bastard!” 

“But he said…” Dick bit his lip, looking sick.

Bruce narrowed his eyes. “He said what, Dick?” 

The boy’s eyes skirted nervously around the cave, looking anywhere but at Bruce. “He said I should be able to– to stop him. Because Batman trained me. And if I didn’t stop him, it meant that…” Dick swallowed. “I…I w-wanted it.”

Bruce’s mouth opened and he stared at Dick in speechless rage.

“But I didn’t!” Dick burst out. “Bruce, I _swear!_ I really, really tried, but I couldn’t…I couldn’t get him off me.”

“THAT GODDAMN _FUCKER!_ ” Bruce exploded, and Dick jerked back. The billionaire shook his head in wild fury. “Dick…no…just…no…” He stopped shaking his head and looked the boy directly in the eyes. “You did _nothing_ wrong. Nothing. That–”

Bruce cut himself off. He needed to calm down and get a grip on his emotions so that he could articulate this properly. Plus, he needed to stop swearing in front of Dick. Alfred would be furious if he heard him.

Taking a deep, steadying breath, Bruce tightened his hands on Dick’s shoulders. “Dick, I need you to hear this, _really_ hear this. You are not at fault. What that man tried to do was a depraved, disgusting act. That he attempted to force the responsibility on you makes him an even sicker, twisted individual. You are thirteen-years-old, a child–”

“I’m not a child!”

“In terms of sexual experience you are,” Bruce replied gently. “You don’t know–”

“I know about…that stuff,” Dick interrupted, squirming and red-faced. “Please don’t have that talk now.”

“I’m not going to give you that talk.” In the internet age, there was little point. “But you do need to understand just how blameless you are in this situation _because_ of your age.” Bruce took a deep breath before continuing. “Dick, you probably have vague notions about what consenting sex is between two adults, and possibly even some idea of what constitutes rape, but you lack the emotional maturity to comprehend just how devastating the difference between them is. That you would think, for even one second, that you were in _any_ way responsible for what happened tonight proves how young you are.” 

Bruce let go of Dick’s shoulders, rubbing his eyes tiredly. He shouldn’t be having this conversation with him. No matter how precocious, no matter how experienced in the violent side of life he was, this was one area he should still know nothing about. It wasn’t fair, and Bruce hated, despised, _loathed_ , that there were men out there who were leaving him with no choice but to explain this to him.

He sighed. “Dick, your innocence made it easy for that man to manipulate you into thinking it was your fault. It’s a common tool child abusers use to shame their victims into remaining silent so that they can get away with what they know is a sick, evil, depraved act. But the child is _never_ at fault. Do you understand?”

“But there were witnesses. The others knew he was…” Dick cringed visibly. “Why bother trying to keep it secret?” 

Bruce shook his head. “I can only speculate as to his intentions, but my guess is that the instinct to shift the blame to the child is so deeply ingrained that it’s a subconscious action by now.” _Sick bastard._

“Oh.”

“Do you still think you were at fault?” Bruce prodded carefully.

“I…guess not.” 

“You don’t sound very certain.”

Dick shrugged and Bruce felt a deep, visceral pain stab him in the heart. He wanted nothing more than to go back and prevent this evening’s events from ever happening – and to hell with the damn timeline! “Give me one reason why you think it’s your fault.”

“He kind of…had a point.” Dick finally looked Bruce in the eyes, and his forehead was lined with confusion. “Why couldn’t I get away? I mean, I’m not just any kid; I’ve been trained by Batman. And it was only two guys so–”

“Wait! Back up!” Bruce interrupted. “There was a _second_ man?!” Why was he only hearing about this now?

“He wasn’t doing– trying to do…that. He just…he was–”

“Holding you down,” Bruce ground out. The fingerprints on Dick’s wrists. Fucking bastards. He would kill them both. He would break into whatever prison they were confined to and rip them both apart with his bare hands. “Dick…” He let out a breath. He needed to be quiet and calm or he would start losing his temper all over again. “What exactly happened?”

The boy blanched. “You want me to _tell_ you about it?!”

“I need to know, Dick.” He softened his voice. “C’mon, kiddo, I can’t help you if I don’t know what happened.” It was true. No one could put a puzzle together without all the pieces, and he couldn’t fix this without the full picture.

Dick flushed, then shoved his hands in his sweatshirt and looked at the ground. “Not much to tell,” he muttered. “They took me to a room. I fought back, but they– that guy…p-pinned me to a desk. The other guy held onto my wrists and the first guy, he– he tried to get my clothes off…” Dick swallowed. “He kept…k-kissing my neck and saying…stuff. He got my tights d-down…” The boy paused and squirmed painfully. “He p-put his hands…somewhere, and then Wally burst in. End of story.” He looked at Bruce imploringly, his face hot with mortification. “ _Please_ don’t make me go into any more detail!”

Bruce struggled to respond. The scene Dick had described was searing itself into his brain, making the father in him bay for blood. The scarecrow toxin hadn’t been enough. It would never be enough.

His voice was strained and hoarse when he finally managed to speak. “Dick, are you telling me that two men twice your size held you down while you were cuffed hand and foot? Without even your utility belt to defend yourself?” The boy nodded and Bruce wanted to murder the two men who had done this. He wanted to murder them over and over until there was nothing but little pieces left. “And yet you think you should somehow have been able to get away?” 

“I guess…when you put it like that…” Dick was silent for a long moment before asking, “Bruce, are there a lot of guys like him out there?”

If ever there was a time Bruce didn’t want to tell Dick the truth, this was it. But lying wasn’t an option, not when it was so easy for him to discover the truth. Damn internet. He sighed. “I wish I could say no, but unfortunately, there are too many men like him out there.”

“Did you ever meet one? Before tonight, I mean.”

“I’ve taken down a few as Batman.”

“With Scarecrow’s fear gas?”

So he saw that. “No. I handed them over to the authorities. Tonight was…different.”

“Because it involved me.” Dick’s voice was quiet.

“Yes.” Bruce put a hand on Dick’s shoulder again, and this time the boy didn’t flinch. “I know we’re supposed to leave punishment to the courts, but it’s hard to be objective when it’s your own child.”

“Is it– is it wrong that I’m okay with you punishing him?” 

“Of course not!” cried Bruce vehemently. “Dick, he deserved that and worse.”

“Okay. ‘Cause I…I really hate what he did, Bruce,” Dick whispered miserably.

“Oh, kiddo…” Bruce pulled him into a bone-crushing hug. “I hate what he did too.”

He felt small, thin arms come around him, and then Dick buried his face in his neck. The collar of his shirt grew damp, but Bruce didn’t say a word, just tightened his hold. Dick could put on a brave face in front of his friends, but that didn’t change the fact that this had frightened him badly and was likely to haunt him for some time to come. 

Bruce knew it was going to haunt him too. Letting Robin out would now be riddled with anxiety and panic, but he couldn’t let Dick know that lest he thought Batman didn’t trust him. That trust would be important to Dick in coming weeks because already Bruce could see that his confidence had been shaken by tonight’s events. And rebuilding that confidence would be an important part of helping Dick to heal. Bruce knew he would have to tread carefully to ensure there was no long term damage as a result of this nightmare. Because horrific as things had been, Bruce knew they could have been a _lot_ worse, with repercussions reaching beyond a few weeks of feeling nervous and scared.

Dick rubbed his eyes and pulled back. “Sorry,” he mumbled awkwardly. “That was dumb.”

Bruce frowned. Only thirteen and already Dick was squashing down emotional outbursts. He was emulating his mentor – the one thing Bruce didn’t want him to do. “It’s not dumb to show how you feel, and you should never try to hide it. Dick, I don’t want you bottling things up. It’s not healthy.”

Dick raised a pointed eyebrow and Bruce couldn’t help but give a weak chuckle. “Alright, I know I’m not the best role model. But you’re not me, Dick. You need to feel; it’s part of who you are and I don’t want you to change.” 

“But don’t you want me to be more like Batman?”

“ _No!_ ” The response was louder than he’d intended and Bruce winced before lowering his voice. “Just…stay the way you are, okay?”

Dick blinked, and then nodded. “Okay.” He tilted his head and squinted at Bruce. “If you’ve met guys like…him before tonight, how come I haven’t?”

“What?” said Bruce, thrown by the abrupt change of subject.

“If Batman has met those kind of guys before, how come Robin hasn’t?”

Bruce gave him a look. “I think you know the answer to that, Dick.”

“Because you didn’t want me to.” It was a statement, not a question.

Bruce nodded. 

“Why?”

“I didn’t think you needed to know about those things,” Bruce answered quietly, wishing he still didn’t know about them.

“So now that I know about them, does that mean I will work those cases?”

“Absolutely not!” Bruce replied violently. Dick looked taken aback and he softened his tone before explaining. “Just because you know that such men exist doesn’t mean you can work those cases.”

“Why not?” Dick demanded, looking a little mulish now.

Because he didn’t want to put the boy on their radar. He didn’t want those men going to bed at night and thinking about Robin when they… Bruce shuddered and shook his head. “Because I don’t want you to see just how bad the aftermath of those cases really is, and I don’t want to take the chance of anything happening again. Not because I don’t trust you, but because tonight has given me enough nightmares to last the rest of my life.”

It was a declaration of weakness he didn’t often admit to, and Dick’s stunned expression told him the boy hadn’t really understood just how much tonight had frightened _him_ until now. He’d probably just thought that Bruce had been angry.

“I’m sorry I scared you, Bruce,” Dick whispered finally. “And I’m sorry we didn’t contact the League sooner.”

“I hope that means you won’t make that mistake again,” Bruce responded, giving him a somewhat stern look.

“We won’t.”

“Good.” Bruce surveyed the boy in front of him. He seemed calmer. “How do you feel now?”

“Better.” Dick gave him a small smile. “Thanks, Bruce.”

Bruce stood up and smiled down at him, one hand still clasping his shoulder tightly. “Anytime, kiddo. You know that.” He glanced at the tray of food. “Your hot chocolate has gone cold. Do you want Alfred to get some more?”

Dick shook his head. “I’m not hungry.” 

“Dick…”

“I’ll eat tomorrow, Bruce, I promise. I just can’t eat tonight.”

Bruce sighed. He supposed he couldn’t blame him for feeling queasy. “Alright, Dick. Just so long as you eat tomorrow.”

Dick nodded. “Are you going back out tonight?”

Bruce glanced at his watch. It was nearly three in the morning, late by anyone else’s standards, but early by Batman’s. Often he would deliver Robin home to the cave at two am, despite the boy’s protests, and return to the streets until seven. He could still get in several hours of patrol if he wanted to. 

But taking one look at Dick’s tired, pale face, Bruce decided against it. He was needed here. He shook his head. “I think Gotham will survive without Batman for one night.”

Relief flashed across Dick’s face and he knew he’d made the right choice. He squeezed the boy’s shoulder. “C’mon, kiddo, it’s late. Let’s get you up to bed before Alfred starts giving me the look.”

Dick sighed. “Yeah. Stupid garden party.”

Bruce made a decision. “You don’t have to go if you don’t want to.”

“What?” Dick stared at him as if he weren’t sure he’d heard correctly. 

“I’m giving you a get-out-of-jail-free card.”

“Seriously?”

Bruce nodded. Dick could do with the downtime after tonight. Besides, it would be hard to explain the bruises on him. Not to mention that damn hickey.

“Thanks, Bruce.” Dick beamed at him, then hesitated. “Do I still have to go to bed?”

“It’s late, Dick. I can sit with you for a while if you’re worried about sleeping.”

Dick bit his lip. “You don’t mind?”

“Of course not. You go upstairs and get ready. I’ll be up in a few minutes.”

“Okay.” Dick headed for the stairs and Bruce’s eyes tracked him until he disappeared from view. Once Dick was safely out of sight, Bruce sagged against the table, one hand covering his eyes while he let out a breath. Jesus Christ.

It had been difficult to control himself while Dick was recounting his ordeal, and Bruce felt drained from the effort. He also felt residual rage coating every nerve in his body. Dick wasn’t going to be the only one dealing with issues after tonight; Bruce had never come so close to killing another person, not even Joker. And those murderous feelings were still there. Bruce wondered how long he was going to have to obsessively control himself to keep from acting on those feelings, how long it would be before the rage dissipated. 

He shook himself. Those were questions that could be addressed another time. For now, brooding here in the cave was not where he was supposed to be. Giving a last, cursory glance around the cave, Bruce went upstairs.

When he entered Dick’s room, the boy was in the bathroom brushing his teeth. Bruce felt some of the tight fear loosen at the familiar nightly ritual. Dick was home, safe in the manor.

He sat into the chair beside Dick’s bed and surveyed the room. He’d been so busy at Wayne Enterprises lately that he only entered the room to say goodnight to Dick, and even that was rare. He was going to have to make a better effort to curtail his work hours in the coming weeks. Eyes flicking around the room, Bruce noticed a few changes since he’d last sat here; a larger than usual pile of books on Dick’s desk, a zombie figurine that looked like something Wally had given him, – Bruce would never understand both boys’ obsession with the zombie genre – several new photos on the bookshelves, and a partially dismantled game console that Dick was clearly rebuilding in the corner. There was also a new photograph of Bruce and Dick on the nightstand.

Bruce picked it up. The photo had been taken at a yachting event in Metropolis last month, but Bruce didn’t remember it being taken. In it, he was showing Dick how to steer a yacht. The boy had both hands on the wheel while Bruce stood behind him, his hands on Dick’s, guiding them. Dick had a captain’s hat on and was laughing, while Bruce’s lips were curved in a genuine smile – a rare thing to be captured on film. It was one of the best photos of them that Bruce had ever seen.

He put the picture back down on the nightstand just as Dick exited the bathroom, already in his pajamas. “That’s a nice picture,” Bruce observed. “Where did you get it?”

“Clark gave it to me.”

Bruce sighed. Of course, who else? The Boy Scout had been covering the story for The Daily Planet; he must have taken a few sneaky candids when Bruce wasn’t looking. 

“Bruce, you’re not mad at Clark for taking the picture, are you?”

He shook his head because, oddly enough, he wasn’t as irritated by it as he would usually be. “I like the picture. I think I’ll get a copy for my desk at work.”

“Cool,” Dick replied on a nonchalant voice, although Bruce could tell that something about his statement had made Dick happy.

“Okay, kiddo, into bed,” Bruce instructed gently when Dick showed no signs of getting under the covers.

“But I’m really not tired, Broooose,” Dick said around a yawn.

Bruce couldn’t help but grin. “Nice try, Dick. Bed.”

“So…what, you’re gonna talk to me until I fall asleep?” Dick asked, climbing into bed.

“No, that’ll only keep you awake.” Bruce glanced at the book on Dick’s nightstand. “Why don’t you read until you feel sleepy?”

“No offence, Bruce, but reading while you watch me is a little creepy.”

Bruce laughed. “Well, what do you suggest?”

“Um…I don’t suppose you’d read to me?”

Bruce was surprised. He had read to Dick when he was younger, but as he’d gotten older, his burgeoning independence meant he preferred to read the text himself and the ritual had gradually petered out.

“Alright,” he agreed, reaching for the book on the nightstand, “what are we reading?”

“The Subtle Knife, it’s the second book in a trilogy. My bookmark is right at the end of the last chapter I read.”

“Okay. Lie down and I’ll start.”

Dick did as instructed and Bruce started to read. The book was mildly entertaining, if extremely confusing since he had no clue what was going on, but Dick seemed to be enjoying it. After almost half an hour, Bruce glanced up to find Dick asleep.

_I knew he was tired._ Bruce put the bookmark between the pages and closed the book before placing it back on the nightstand. Then he sat back in the chair and observed Dick sleeping. 

The boy didn’t look completely peaceful; there was a downward tilt to his mouth and he was frowning. Bruce had planned on going to his own room once Dick was asleep, but what if the boy had a nightmare? Bruce didn’t want him waking up alone and panicking in the dark after what he’d been through tonight. Maybe it would be better if he stayed…just in case.

A little part of Bruce admitted to himself that he wasn’t just here to comfort Dick should he need it, he was also reassuring himself. It had been one of the most singularly chilling experiences of his life to discover that someone had attacked his child in that manner, and Bruce’s nerves were still reverberating from shock. He was handling the fright somewhat better because he’d become uncomfortably inured to such fear by now.

Fear. It was something that no one had ever told him about when he’d become a parent; the constant, all-encompassing fear that something might happen to your child. Bruce had been startled to discover that the most frightening thing in the world was being a parent. Even just the idea of harm befalling his child was enough to wake him from sleep in the middle of the night, shaking from terror and cold sweats the likes of which he hadn’t experienced since he was eight. 

Bruce supposed the fear was worse in his case because Dick was Robin, because he faced the sort of dangers most people, not to talk of children, never faced. If Bruce had known then what he knew now, he doubted he’d ever have let the boy become a vigilante. But by the time he’d realized just how very, very important Dick was to him, how much he cared for the boy, he was already firmly established as Robin, and it would have done more harm than good to retire him. 

And Dick’s happiness was paramount to Bruce. He knew he wasn’t the world’s greatest parent when it came to expressing feelings – although he had improved since he’d first taken Dick in – but he loved Dick with every fiber of his being and would do anything in the world to keep him happy and safe. 

A light tap at the door sounded and Bruce twisted around just as Alfred entered, bearing a tray. “I’m sorry to disturb you, Master Bruce,” he whispered. “But you didn’t have any of your coffee downstairs, and I thought you might like some.”

“Pretty late for coffee, isn’t it?” Bruce also kept his voice low.

“It’s only late if one intends on sleeping, sir.”

Bruce shook his head as Alfred put the tray on Dick’s dresser and poured a cup of coffee. Sometimes the old man knew him better than he knew himself.

Alfred handed him the cup and glanced anxiously at the sleeping boy. “Is Master Dick alright?”

“I think he will be. Fortunately, things didn’t go too far. We have Kid Flash to thank for that.”

“Kid Flash?”

“He vibrated out of his restraints and got Robin out of there before that… _animal_ could do what he’d intended to do.”

Alfred raised a questioning eyebrow at him, but Bruce shook his head. “I’ll fill you in on everything tomorrow. If I start talking about it now, I’ll only want to hurt someone and I want to be calm in case Dick needs me tonight.”

“A wise precaution, Master Bruce.” Alfred glanced at Dick again and pursed his lips tightly as his eyes scanned the boy’s neck. “I’ll prepare some salve for those bruises. Will I be calling the young sir for the garden party in the morning?”

Bruce shook his head. “Let him sleep. To hell with the garden party, I’ll make some excuse for Dick.”

“Very good, sir.” Alfred threw a last look at the sleeping child before picking the tray up. “Do you require anything else?”

“No. Thank you, Alfred. Go get some rest.”

“Goodnight, sir.” 

Alfred closed the door behind him and Bruce returned his attention to the boy in the bed. Dick was mumbling in his sleep and Bruce leaned forward, hoping very much that this wasn’t the beginning of a nightmare already. Fortunately, Dick quieted after a moment and Bruce released the breath he’d been holding. 

It was unsettling how emotional he could get when it came to Dick; Bruce had spent the better part of twenty years suppressing all emotions, and he still wasn’t used to feeling out of control. But despite the endless fear and the sleepless nights, he would never regret making Dick his son. Dick had brought warmth and happiness back into his life – something Bruce had never expected in the dark years after his parents’ murder. 

And while it was terrifying to care for another human being that much – Bruce knew how much losing someone you loved hurt, how much it never stopped hurting – it was still worth every second of terror. Because in amongst all that fear, and pain, and sleepless nights were a million tiny moments of happiness, where peace settled in his heart. The joy made the fear worthwhile, and it was something no monster would ever take from him. Bruce would make sure of that. And while he may not be able to kill the real life monsters, he could annihilate those of the night; the ability to chase bad dreams away was one of the perks of being a father.

Bruce sipped his coffee and settled back in his chair, happily resigned to a long night’s vigil.


End file.
